


Moments of Clarity

by tommygirl



Category: Roswell - Fandom
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Fifteen Minute Fic, Fluff, Post-Finale, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommygirl/pseuds/tommygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria knows she made the right decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moments of Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> Written for picture challenge # 14 at 15minuteficlets. Oh and it's Michael/Maria fluff because I was in the mood.

Maria stared out at the scenic view, inhaling deep breathes and envisioning what it would be like to feel this still and peaceful all the time. It rarely worked that way for her anymore. She was pretty sure that there was a time in her life where things had been simple, or at least, less chaotic, but it seemed like those memories belonged to someone else. Definitely couldn’t belong to her, girl-of-constant-adventures-with-aliens-and-little-time-for-anything-else.

She heard someone calling her name, pulling her from her reverie and forcing her to recall that she couldn’t stand here all day. This couldn’t be her new home. She probably couldn’t even touch the pool-blue sky despite how it seemed _ohsoclose_ to her grasp.

She felt a familiar hand rest on a familiar spot on her lower back. She smiled without thought. Michael had that ability (refraining from admitting to herself that he also had the ability to make her much more insane than anyone else) and it was one of the definite perks of having someone else in her life. She sighed and leaned back against him, sure that he would be there to catch her. Why couldn’t all the moments between them be like this one?

“We’ve gotta get going. We’re still too close to Roswell and the others…” Michael’s voice trailed off. He turned her around so that she was facing him and, in a very non-Michael nanosecond of time and manner, he caressed her face with both his palms and planted a soft, Tabasco-scented kiss on her lips. He cleared his throat and went on, “It’s not too late to change your mind, Maria.”

“What?” she asked. She blinked, unsure if it was the bright sun casting off the water, the simple beauty of the kiss, or the words Michael was saying that was causing this reaction.

“Last night—everyone was caught up in excitement and craziness of the moment and a lot of things happened all at once,” Michael stopped abruptly. He pulled away from her and kicked at the sand. Why did he always pull away from her? Couldn’t he see that she had chosen him? That she wanted him more than anything else, more than even those things she dreamt for herself.

“I’m where I want to be, Michael.”

“I just don’t want you to regret—“

“I’m where I want to be,” Maria repeated. She closed the few centimetres between the two of them and took his hand. She said, “With my friends. _With you_. I wouldn't be here otherwise.”

“You say that now, but—“

“I’ve always thought that there was something liberating about being forced to make life-altering decisions in a split-second,” Maria replied.

Michael rolled his eyes, “What?”

“It’s like in movies when all the adrenaline is pumping and crap is dumping in around th echaracters left and right...it's the same thing now...there is no time for pretense or hurt feelings or lying to yourself...none of that matters when there is only a fleeting moment to make your choice. And it was like…the most natural choice for me to make, Michael. Which I’ve gotta admit, freaked me out. I mean, the only coherent thought in my head in that moment was: I’ll never see Michael again. And it scared me.”

Michael didn’t say anything. He never was Mr. Man of Many Words, but he usually had an uncanny knack for being Mr. Man of All The Wrong Words whenever she had said something real, something that mattered to her. He didn’t this time though and Maria kissed him out of sheer gratitude (and, of course, the energy burning through her at being that close to Michael without being close to him).

He wrapped his arms around her tightly and said, “We’ve got to go.”

She nodded, but replied, “It’s so beautiful out here. So calm.”

He stared out at the horizon, trying to see whatever it was Maria saw. She could tell that to him it looked the same as all the other rock formations they grew up around, but that he would try to understand it for her—maybe they were making progress after all? He squeezed her hand and said, “I promise you that you’ll see it again someday.”

“Michael, I don’t—“

“I mean it. We won’t run forever. I don’t want that life for you. Hell, I don’t want that life for myself. And we couldn’t anyway. At some point, there will have to be…” his voice trailed off again and he shook his shoulders, releasing built-up tension from being cooped up in a van for too long, and replied, “I promise you’ll get back here, okay?”

She nodded, knowing well enough to enjoy those few romantic gestures that Michael Guerin provided her with, and said, “I believe you.”

She turned to start walking back toward the van and the others, but Michael stopped her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and said, “For the record, I’m glad that your moment of clarity involved me.”

Maria’s smile grew bigger and all the fears she had last night, sitting in the van as Roswell became smaller and smaller, faded away. She kissed him and said, “Me too, Michael.”


End file.
